Working in classical music one is sometimes left with the feeling of being born in the wrong era:
"singers were greater then; conductors were real masters then; we had stars then"‹all
of the usual sound bytes that were undoubtedly also uttered then. As in any field, the weight
of our legacy is eased by the rewards of our personal relationships and by witnessing the success
of gifted colleagues. Rarely, but with great pleasure, you "click" with another artist. Why? Shared
ideologies, similar standards, mutual passions‹there are many possible reasons. The simplest
explanation usually being the most correct, I suspect it's just because you like each other.

This production of Madame Butterfly features several singers with
whom I've had a long association: Mika Shigematsu, Paul Charles Clarke, Peter Coleman-Wright,
Cheryl Barker, and Patricia Racette. As I anticipate our work together I am inevitably drawn back
into the mutual memories of our performing lives thus far. Rarely in my career has so much shared
history converged on one project.

One of my most rewarding and sustained associations has been with soprano
Patricia Racette, whom I've known since the beginning of her career in 1988. That year, she entered
the Merola Opera Program of the San Francisco Opera Center, for which I served as music director
prior to my appointment in Houston. Patricia's diverse assignments at HGO began the same night
as my own, in the 1998-99 season, in Verdi's La Traviata. Her subsequent appearances at
HGO show the depth of her unique talents: Love Simpson in Cold Sassy Tree, Margherite in
Mefistofele, Elisabetta in Don Carlo, and her unforgettable Jen°ufa last
season. She frames this celebratory year, opening the season as Puccini's Madame Butterfly and
closing it as Alice Ford to Bryn Terfel's Falstaff in Verdi's extraordinary valedictory opera.

Patricia was born near Squam Lake, New Hampshire, known to the rest of
us as Golden Pond, the setting of the famous film starring Henry Fonda and Katharine Hepburn. I've
always associated Patricia with Hepburn, not simply because of a lake. While Patricia bears no
physical or (thankfully) vocal resemblance to the late actress, her career has the qualities of
a role which might have attracted Hepburn: feisty, intelligent, full of heart, courageous, the
quintessential New Englander.

Opening HGO's 50th season with Patricia as Butterfly, (her first "grown
up" performances of the role, she likes to say; since she sang the work in the pedagogic setting of
Merola in 1988), is a nostalgic project for both of us. While it's often said that I "trained" Patricia
it would be more accurate to say I witnessed her arrival and provided a comfortable sounding board
for her instincts. I had never met anyone as intensely present as she and I've never encountered
anyone so unshakably honest. On the first day of the annual Merola Program, the 20 participants
(chosen from 900) are normally brimming with the overdone politeness brought on by sincere fright.
Patricia walked into my office in the first hour of the 1988 program and asked, "How do I apply to be
an Adler Fellow?" (Adler Fellows are the San Francisco equivalent of the Houston Grand Opera Studio
artists.) I politely explained that one didn't "apply" for full-time employment in the arts; one
was "chosen." She said "Okay!" and left. A year later she was in rehearsal for her first assignment
as an Adler Fellow covering the great Spanish soprano Pilar Lorengar as Alice Ford in Falstaff.
Pilar was a perennial figure on the SFO stage in those years, and I'll never forget Patricia's reaction
the first time she heard her‹ "She sounds like a ray of sunlight." When I heard Patricia's Metropolitan
Opera debut, as Musetta in La Bohème, I remembered the remark, and felt a deep sense
of continuity, with Patricia's voice beaming through the vast Met.

Beyond the radiance and fullness of her voice, and a timbre easily recognizable
with one note, she has maintained the level of dramatic inquisitiveness and honesty that distinguished
her as a novice singer. Her most frequent rehearsal utterance, in full New England accent, is "why?"
and director, conductor, and colleagues need to be willing to collaborate with her on answering
the question. What is she looking for? She's looking for the truth of the piece here and now, the depth
of the text as it relates to the music. She thankfully has as little patience as I do for the all-too-frequent
"this is what has always been done." Is this "temperament"? Sure. But it is precisely what temperament
should be. In another era, she would have regaled Johnny Carson with naughty stories or sung duets
with Carol Burnett. Classical music, particularly opera, has sadly disappeared from large public
forums such as talk shows (in the 1970s Beverly Sills didn't merely appear on The Tonight Show;
she hosted during a Carson vacation week) and variety shows (remember Eileen Farrell and Marilyn
Horne appearing together on The Carol Burnett Show?).

But I feel in danger of giving you the wrong impression: Patricia, the
artist, is serious and uncompromising. But Pat, as she's known to her friends, has a wicked sense
of humor and a laugh that could bend steel. She is a gifted physical comedian and pristine mimic,
qualities rarely summoned in opera. One of my most cherished memories of her involves a private
fund-raiser for the San Francisco Opera: Patricia was scheduled to sing excerpts from Madame
Butterfly but she sprained her ankle on the afternoon of the performance. Instead of canceling
she decided to utilize the crutches the doctor had forced on her. They became everything: bizarre
arm extensions pointing to Pinkerton's ship, an air guitar, a swab, a hairpin, and finally, right
out of the Marx Brothers, she used them to (pretend to, of course) whack Suzuki in the face. The audience
heard very little that night: it became a pandemonium of laughter and Pat never cracked a smile,
which was what actually made it so funny.

Cheryl Barker, our alternate cast Cio-Cio-San, and her husband, Peter
Coleman-Wright, who sings Sharpless, starred together in HGO's world premiere performances
of The End of the Affair. Cheryl and I collaborated on two important productions at the Australian
Opera: Baz Luhrmann's famous La Bohème in 1996 (the same production that appeared
on Broadway two seasons ago) and Moffatt Oxenbould's ethereal production of Madama Butterfly
in 1997. Baz, now more widely known as the edgiest of Hollywood's new generation of directors (Strictly
Ballroom, Romeo and Juliet, and Moulin Rouge) developed his cinematic style
largely through the three outings of his Bohème at the Sydney Opera House, and his
extraordinary production of Benjamin Britten's A Midsummer Night's Dream. His dramatic
visual style, a successful mixture of ultramodern-hip and neo-romantic, had many influences
but none more indelible than Cheryl's diaphanous beauty and simple, honest delivery as Mimí.
To take nothing away from the performances of the gifted actresses that have populated his films,
I always come away from Baz's movies feeling he's trying to recreate Cheryl's Mimi. Cheryl's Cio-Cio-San,
well known in many theaters around the world, now comes to Houston as well. For the ultimate Madame
Butterfly experience, see both casts. Watching two singing actresses at the height of their
powers essay the same role is a rare opportunity.

Peter first appeared at HGO as Rodrigo in Don Carlo in a gallant
11th-hour save. His career has spanned the globe and the repertoire, as he has performed everything
from Sweeney Todd to Billy Budd to the great Mozart parts and is now heading into heavier dramatic
roles. I have rarely known a colleague so universally liked as Peter. The reason, again, is something
the audience never sees, given the repertoire Peter sings. Peter is a tornado of a person, bursting
with energy and laughter. He keeps us all in stitches a great deal of the time, effortlessly easing
the tensions of the rehearsal process; he lightens everyone around him.

Liverpudlian Paul Charles Clarke and I performed La Bohème
in Seattle in 1997. Our Mimí in that production was the eminent Italian soprano Nuccia Focile,
Paul's wife. We sailed pleasantly through the three-week rehearsal period, with Nuccia and Paul
unearthing details in Puccini's familiar score I'd never experienced in years of conducting the
work. After the final dress rehearsal I went home filled with the contentment of having done our
best by Puccini. At midnight I got a phone call from Paul informing me that Nuccia was going to have
to cancel her performances due to the complications of a pregnancy. Thrilled for them, of course,
I was also stunned since none of the rest of us had previously known anything about it. I wonder if
Paul has ever forgiven me for asking, "Wasn't she pregnant an hour ago when we finished the dress rehearsal?" Thankfully, Paul and Nuccia gave birth to gorgeous little Katya, who as a toddler liked
to corner me and force me to read her favorite books. It didn't take much forcing. Paul and I later
had Die Fledermaus performances together at the Metropolitan Opera and, of course, he
memorably partnered Renée Fleming in her first Violettas two seasons ago, here at HGO. He
returns now as Pinkerton.

Our Suzuki is another Merola alumna, Japanese mezzo-soprano Mika Shigematsu,
who has been the source of many smiles in my life. I remember the extraordinary illustration she
made, practically a mural, of everyone involved in the 1993 Merola Program. With just a few strokes
of her pen she managed to capture the essence of over 40 individuals with humor and grace.

Music is a great and complex science with deep rewards, but live music's
greatest lesson must be that we only have the moment we're in and the people around us. Our individual
careers mean little without the context of other careers intersecting and enlightening our own.
Perhaps Hepburn said it best: "Life's what's important: walking, houses, family. Birth and pain
and joy.... Acting's just waiting for the custard pie. That's all."

With Kelli O’Hara as Despina, Christopher Maltman as Don Alfonso, and David Robertson on the podium, the Met’s new production of Così fan tutte features sword swallowers, fire eaters, and a live Burmese python.